Zephyr, Due North
by Strawberry Shortcake123
Summary: Tony and Ziva spend a day exploring Chicago and their partnership. Tiva friendship bordering on more. Oneshot.


"One day in Chicago," Tony said grandly, spreading his arms wide as he and Ziva stepped out of the hotel's front doors and onto the bustling sidewalk. "What do you want to do with it?"

She tilted her head back and looked with mild interest at the buildings towering over them. "I am hungry."

"Then we eat!" He headed into the throng of people, pulling Ziva along by the arm. "Let's go to the Rock & Roll McDonald's."

"McDonald's? I cannot stand that place, and we can go there in D.C. anytime."

"Didn't you hear me? It's not just a McDonald's. It's famous. We're going."

Tony quickened his pace; she sighed and scurried along to keep up with him. "Did Gibbs give you a copy of the file we need for tomorrow? I may have lost mine."

Tony turned to her with exaggeratedly wide eyes. "Probette lost something? I thought losing stuff was my job."

"I am not on probationary status anymore," she reminded him, jabbing a finger into his arm. "And _do_ you have it?"

"Yes, I have it. Cool it, ninja." They stopped at a corner with the rest of a crowd waiting to cross the street. A woman talking to her friend and gesturing enthusiastically whacked Tony in the chest without noticing. He moved closer to Ziva. "I don't want to hear another word about work until tomorrow, David. Today is just you and me and the Windy City. Got it?"

The people around them began to step onto the crosswalk. Tony and Ziva stayed where they were, maintaining eye contact. "Fine," she said. "No work. You, me, and the wind."

"It's not actually that windy here."

"What? You just called it the-"

"I'll explain while we eat," he said, placing his hand at the small of her back and making sure no cars were coming their way before he guided her into the street. "You're lucky. Not many naturalized citizens get history lessons from people who were born here, and especially not from Very Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo."

"Stop talking, Tony."

He did.

0000000000

After breakfast (which Tony considered a success because Ziva had admitted to being somewhat impressed by the Rock & Roll McDonald's), they caught a train headed for West Addison Street. It wasn't crammed, but they had trouble finding any free seats. When Tony finally saw one he motioned for her to sit down and remained standing himself, holding onto the pole beside him.

She opened her mouth to make a snarky comment about being surprised by his chivalry, but the train began to move and she fell into the seat, the back of her head coming in contact with the wall behind her. Tony extended one hand and then paused, letting it hover over her. "Are you okay?"

"Yes," she replied, and with that established, he cracked a grin.

"Good thing you've got such a hard head."

She reached out to swat at his arm. "You are annoying me."

"What else is new?"

Ziva narrowed her eyes at him. The train hit a bump, and Tony was lurched to one side. He yelped and gripped the pole tightly as he worked to remain upright. Once he regained his footing, he looked up and found his partner smirking at him. He gave her a look that silenced her before she could speak; instead, she simply slouched in her chair, arms crossed in her lap, and raised an eyebrow.

The stop at Addison couldn't come fast enough for him and his aching legs- though he gave no outward indication that his knees were sore, as that would result in a joke about his age from Ziva. Through the window, he could see their destination, and his excitement peaked. He hurried Ziva out of the train and down the platform. She exhaled loudly through her nose, but obliged. "Where are we going, Tony?"

"Wrigley Field," he said, drawing out each syllable reverently.

Ziva thought for a second, then admitted, "I do not know what that is."

They stepped onto the sidewalk. Tony stopped and grabbed her wrist to prevent her from walking ahead of him. As they stood there, he raised his free hand and pointed across the street at the structure which, from that angle, looked like a long, aging stone building with enormous lights set up on top. "This is a… field?" she asked.

"Inside is the field part," he said. "It's a baseball stadium. Like Nationals Park in D.C., by the Navy Yard?"

"Oh," she said. "Yes." He slid his hand down from her wrist and into her palm as he started down the street. She made no move to pull away; she seemed more interested in where they were. "Are we watching a game?"

"No game today. The team that plays here- the Cubs- they're in Houston."

"Then why are we here?"

"Just wanted to see it."

"I do not understand."

Tony grinned, beginning to enjoy his newfound role as tour guide. "This park has been around since 1914. It's seen a lot, Ziva. It's where Babe Ruth called his shot. He pointed into center field…" He used the hand that wasn't holding hers to demonstrate. "And the very next pitch, _bam!_ Home run. Right where he said it would be. That's a moment for the Yankees to remember, I guess; not really the Cubs. But it's legendary, and it happened _right here_."

Because the words 'Babe Ruth' made her think only of a candy bar, which was decidedly not baseball related, she didn't say anything.

"The thing about the Cubs is that they haven't won a World Series- that's the championship of Major League Baseball- since 1908."

He paused, waiting for some sound of shock or dismay. What he got instead was, "Is that a long time?"

"Yeah," Tony said incredulously. "It's 2012, Ziva."

"I was just checking," she huffed.

"The Red Sox went, uh… eighty-six years without winning a World Series. I'm telling you, nobody knows pain like Red Sox and Cubs fans."

Ziva furrowed her brow, turned her head, took in Wrigley. "Do people still watch the games, then?"

Just when he thought the questions couldn't get anymore ridiculous. "Of course they do."

"If they never win, what is the point?"

They reached the corner. The street was clear, but they did not cross it. Tony looked at her genuinely puzzled face. It occurred to him that, really, she needed the Cubs more than anyone.

"The point is hope," he said. "There's always a _chance_ they're gonna win the Series. As long as those guys get up in the morning and come to the park, winning is a possibility. It's the possibility that keeps everybody coming back."

Ziva lifted her eyes to meet his, and he immediately knew what she was thinking.

_Hope. Chance._

For a split second, they were transported to another time, another continent. To a dingy room with two chairs and some rope and a hood that had changed everything when it was taken away.

Tony gave her a gentle smile and nodded toward the red sign proudly declaring that the stadium was _Wrigley Field, Home of Chicago Cubs_. "They'll win the Series again," he said confidently. "When they do, you and me will have to come back here to see the new championship banner."

0000000000

They made their way back to the South side of the city, where Ziva found the Art Institute and wanted to go inside. Tony was in no position to argue, seeing as they _had_ just returned from an empty baseball stadium, so he shuffled along behind her as she moved from exhibit to exhibit, painting to painting, trying to yawn as quietly as possible.

By the time she finished looking, it was past two o'clock and both of their stomachs were growling. As they descended the steps in front of the museum, he pulled his digital camera from his pocket and handed it to her. "Here, take my picture."

She watched him dash to stand beside one of the large lion statues that sat at the bottom of the stairs. "Why?"

"Because when I create the DiNozzo coat of arms, I'm putting a lion on it." Tony gave her a thumbs up as she turned on the camera and positioned herself in front of him; she laughed in spite of herself.

"Say, uh…" Ziva trailed off, the correct word escaping her.

"Cheese!" Thumb still in the air, he plastered a grin on his face and waited for her to take the picture. Then he stepped over to her and took the camera, lifted it into the air, lens pointed downward at the two of them. With his other arm looped around her neck, he said, "Now you say it."

"I am not saying 'cheese'."

"Just did," he declared triumphantly as the shutter clicked.

Across the street they went, to a sandwich shop called Potbelly. Entertainment was provided by a teenager with a guitar and a pretty voice, and their order was taken by a clean-shaven young man holding an electronic tablet; it would be hard to better blend the twenty-first century with a good-old-days atmosphere.

"Oh, damn," Tony muttered when they were seated and biting into their sandwiches: Italian for him, grilled chicken and cheddar for her. "That's good."

Ziva nodded in agreement. "This is much better than that… McMuffin, yes?"

"So, Agent David," he said, ignoring her previous comment. "How're you enjoying your jaunt through Chicago thus far?"

"It is very interesting. Very diverse. Some of the architecture reminds me of that in Tel Aviv." With a quick flick of her wrist, she grabbed his Coke from right under his nose and took a sip.

Dropping his sandwich, he lunged forward and snatched it back. "You had your chance to get a drink!"

"I did not want an entire drink."

Tony drew the soda close to him and set about stuffing stray meat back into his bread. "I'm protecting my lunch from you, David."

"I wish you luck with that," she said, taking a pepperoni right out of his hand and popping it into her mouth. He gaped at her, and she chewed smugly.

Hours earlier, they had been silently contemplating a memory that neither liked to revisit much; now, they were playful and friendly. Sometimes it amazed him how quickly their interactions could turn one hundred and eighty degrees.

0000000000

"I find this odd."

They stood among several other people who were most likely also tourists, if their fanny packs and digital cameras and Chicago t-shirts were any indication. Ziva took in the silver structure before them, head tilted to the side, arms crossed over her chest. "It looks like a giant bean."

"Yeah, that's the point," Tony said. "It's called the Bean."

"Why would anybody want to make a sculpture of a bean?"

"'Cause he was inspired. I don't know. But look at it. You can see the skyline."

She took in the reflection of the buildings behind them, the curvature that distorted the image. The sun also shone off the surface, leaving spots in front of her eyes when she looked away. "Let's go underneath it," she said, and was off before he could reply.

Beneath the raised center of the structure, they found themselves surrounded by a seemingly infinite number of mirrors. They saw themselves on the left, the right, and up; wherever they looked, there was Tony's red Ohio State t-shirt and the glint of Ziva's earrings.

"Looks like another photo op," he announced gleefully, and she groaned as he produced the camera. Instead of turning it on them, though, he held it straight up to capture them standing together on the underside of the giant Bean. "Smile."

This was another picture that would end up in his cubicle, right next to the one of her in Paris.

0000000000

"This is a very big elevator," Ziva observed, glancing around the spacious compartment, "for just the two of us."

Tony checked his watch as they continued their trip to the top of the Willis Tower. "Monday evening, seventeen hundred hours. I'd guess the big tourist rush was at about thirteen hundred, when you were admiring the medieval arms collection at the museum."

"Those were impressive weapons," she mused. "Excellent craftsmanship went into them."

He took a large step to the left and said, "I should feel lucky you didn't break a glass case and steal some artillery, shouldn't I?"

Ziva raised an eyebrow at him, a smile playing on her lips. "I will not deny that I considered it."

There were four balconies, each enclosed by clear glass, protruding from the one hundred and third floor of the Willis Tower; this was known as The Ledge. They went to the empty balcony on the far left, as the others were occupied by two or three people each. She stepped right into the four foot long box and gazed at the city. He stood beside her, looking down at the cars crawling like ants and the buildings that seemed tall from the street but pretty puny from up there.

A yelp made him snap his head around, but not before an arm seized him around the waist and he found himself looking down at a dark ponytail. Just as quickly, Ziva stood straight up and backed away, into the interior of the building.

"What's wrong?" Tony asked, confused.

Her cheeks flamed red as she pointed to his feet. He looked down, still not understanding, and then said, "_Oh. _I thought you knew the floor was glass."

"I did _no_t," she said, crossing her arms. "It startled me."

Trying not to laugh at her indignation, he held out a hand. "Come back here."

"No. I will wait for you inside."

"Ziva, come on." She continued to glare at him stubbornly, but two could play at that game; he looked right back at her, just as unrelenting.

Finally, she sighed loudly and stepped around him, ignoring his hand. She tapped her feet lightly against the floor while she looked down and through it.

Tony watched her for several seconds, wondering if he should take the risk he wanted to. She had grabbed him a minute earlier, after all; that had to count for something, even though she immediately dropped him like a hot potato, right?

Also, they were 1,450 freaking feet in the air.

This seemed as good a time as any.

He came up behind her and threw an arm over her shoulders; she started. "Relax," he said. "Stand here and look at the view."

Ziva had never followed orders very well- at least, orders from him- but she did gradually slump into his side, and her arm loosely wound around his waist again.

They stood there in silence for a long, long time. Neither of them knew exactly how long, just that they stayed to watch the sun set on the city.

0000000000

Tony plopped down on the edge of Buckingham Fountain, their last stop of the day, and yawned loudly. "I'm beat."

"We have been busy," Ziva noted, sitting beside him. Night had fallen; the fountain's lights bathed both of their faces as its waters shot up straight into the air. They watched it over their shoulders for a while before Tony asked, "Think you'd come back here again?"

"Yes," she replied immediately, and he gave her a surprised look. "I do."

"Would you wanna bring me?"

"Yes, I would."

His eyes scanned her face and found a stray strand of hair; he moved it behind her ear. "You, me and the wind?"

Unsure what he was doing, what was happening, exactly, he bit his lip and wondered if he should withdraw the question. _Wait. This isn't a trial, DiNozzo._

It was there, hovering between them, demanding an answer from her.

Ziva smiled and said, "Yes," and Tony had to smile too. There was a slight change in the atmosphere, one big enough to be noticeable, but too small to pinpoint. He was unaware of his actions until he found his hand on her chin and then her mouth was drawing closer to his, he could feel her breath, and _it was finally going to happen._

A phone beeped.

They sprang apart.

It was his. He cleared his throat and pulled it from his pocket. _Gibbs._

He shook his head at Ziva apologetically as he pressed the phone to his ear. She bit her thumbnail and turned away, wondering if their boss somehow knew that his agents were about to take the first step in crossing the line drawn by rule number twelve.

Tony nudged her knee with his, and she changed her mind: the wind was definitely blowing in their direction.

**This is just me sticking my favorite ship in my favorite city. As far as I know, everything about Chicago in here is accurate, based on my trips there and a little additional research.**

**The word zephyr means 'a soft gentle breeze', in case you were wondering what the heck the title means.**

**I hope this story was somewhat enjoyable! Let me know? :) **


End file.
